that sigh! I knew you would be touched by my story. Am. Your story, woman? Do you think it is your vulgar story that moves me? Leave me, Individual! Wom. What story is it, if not mine, that has touched your eyes with moisture? Am. (aside). Touched my eyes with moisture! Really, she expresses herself like a superior person. Wom. Has the reading of that book excited. your sensibilities? By your leave I will take it from your hands. "The Mysterious Milkmaid!" By your leave I will put the mysterious milkmaid under my foot. There! Am. Was there ever such impertinence? Wom. That book shall go to kindle the kitchen fire. Am. This is too much. Woman, quit the house, or I will call the servants to put you out. Wom. Do not trouble yourself. The servants obey me now and henceforth. My nieces, I am your aunt Mason! Am. You are aunt Mason! Mary. Our father's sister! Dear aunt, I am so glad you have come. Wom. Yes, I am here, with full authority from your father to take charge of his household and superintend the habits and education of his daugh ters. Am. May I pick up my book? Wom. No, Amanda. I hereby banish from my dominion all mysterious milkmaids. No more of We'll not waste our sympathies on imaginary distresses that we cannot afford pity for real them! ones. Mary. Shall you allow no novel-reading, dear aunt? Wom. All truth is sacred, my dear child, and there may be truth under the garb of fiction. I banish only the unhealthy and untrue. Come, we will call on the poor girl of whom I spoke. The sober realities, the practical duties of life shall engage us now. 31. THE WILL. Characters. SWIPES, a brewer; CURRIE, a saddler; FRANK MILLINGTON, and SQUIRE DRAWL. Swipes. A sober occasion, this, brother Currie. Who would have thought the old lady was so near her end? Currie. Ah! we must all die, brother Swipes; and those who live the longest outlive the most. Swipes. True, true; but since we must die and leave our earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good care of us. Had the old lady her senses when she departed? Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. Squire Drawl told me she read every word of the will aloud, and never signed her name better. Swipes. Had you any hint from the Squire what disposition she made of her property? Cur. Not a whisper; the Squire is as close as an underground tomb: but one of the witnesses. hinted to me that she had cut off her graceless nephew, Frank, without a shilling. Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she? You know I come in, then, in right of my wife. Cur. And I in my own right; and this is no doubt the reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your beer-barrels. But here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a matter of course, you know. [Enter FRANK MILLINGTON.] Your servant, young gentleman. So your benefactress has left you at last. Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends, Mr. Millington. Frank. It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better, had I not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my only friend, and I knew not her value. Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You will now have a chance to earn your own bread. Swipes. Ay, ay, by the sweat of your brow, as better people are obliged to. You would make a fine brewer's boy, if you were not too old. Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein. Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will bear your fortune as modestly, as I shall mine submissively. I shall retire. [Going: he meets SQUIRE DRAWL.] Squire. Stop, stop, young man. We must have your presence. Good morning, gentlemen; you are early on the ground. Cur. I hope the Squire is well to-day. Squire. Pretty comfortable, for an invalid. Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs again. Squire. No, I believe not. But since the heirs at law are all convened, I shall now proceed to open the last will and testament of your deceased relative, according to law. Swipes. [While the Squire is breaking the seal.] It is a trying thing to leave all one's possessions, Squire, in this manner. Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy when I look around and see everything but the venerable owner of these goods. Well did the preacher say, "all is vanity." Squire. Please to be seated, gentlemen. [He puts on his spectacles, and begins to read slowly.] Imprimis; whereas my nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and ungrateful conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my bounty, and incapable of managing my large estate, I do hereby give and bequeath all my houses, farms, stocks, bonds, moneys, and property, both personal and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer, and Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler. [The Squire takes off his spectacles, to wipe them.] Swipes. Generous creature! Kind soul! I always loved her. Cur. She was good, she was brother Swipes, when we divide, I the mansion-house. kind; - and, think I'll take Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie. My wife has long had her eye upon that, and must have it. Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr. Swipes. And, besides, I ought to have the first choice. Did I not lend her a new chaise, every time she wished to ride? And who knows what influence Swipes. Am I not named first in her will? and did I not furnish her with my best small beer, for more than six months? And who knows— Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you. [Going.] |